She could only hope that kiss had meant that Lucas felt the same. And hope that he would return to her in one piece after this night.
***
Not half an hour after Mr. Frank Colbert left, there was another pounding knock on the door. Now wary, Lydia stood beside the door to the drawing room so she might hear but not be seen by whomever had arrived.
“Drake, where’s Lucas?” an agitated voice demanded.
“Lord Berkeley is out.”
“Blast!”
Hearing Lord Berkeley’s name, Lydia couldn’t stay put. She walked into the hall, meeting the eyes of the stranger at the door.
“You,” the man said. “Do you know where Lucas is?”
Lydia held herself upright. “And you are?”
“Henry. Where is Lucas?”
Lydia peered at him, chewing the inside of her cheek.
“If I may, Miss Faraday, Sir Henry is one of Lord Berkeley’s close friends,” the butler offered, still maintaining a professional look even while he cut into their conversation.
Lydia looked back to the man. He was about Lord Berkeley’s age, lanky, with dark circles under his eyes. Though he did not appear familiar to her, she recalled his name. Lady Bowcotthad mentioned a friend of her husband’s and Lord Berkeley’s. Someone named Henry.
“Why do you need Lord Berkeley?” she asked.
The man pressed his eyes shut for half a pained second then pierced her with a look. He stepped inside, and the butler closed the door behind him and moved to the edge of the room, giving them a modicum of privacy without leaving her alone with the man.
“I believe he’s in danger.”
“What? Why?”
He let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “I was playing cards with some men tonight when I heard them speaking of Lucas. Not by name. They said they roughed up the marquess’s son real well and he wouldn’t be bothering them anymore—”
Relief shot through her, and she cut him off. “That was Charlie, but he is well and home now, and Lord Berkeley went to—”
“He didn’t go after the men?” Sir Henry sounded incredulous and not at all as relieved as Lydia felt.
“Well, I do not know exactly, but he said he would return.”
“When? When will he return?”
“He said this evening, but it was already encroaching on evening when he left, and—”
“Woman, it is nigh on midnight, and he is not back?”
The butler took a step toward them at Sir Henry’s explosion, but Lydia was growing frustrated with being on the receiving end of this stranger’s wrath for no reason beyond not having the answers he sought. Did he think she did not wish she had all the same answers herself?
She pulled herself up to her full height. “Sir Henry, you may not put much stock in Lord Berkeley’s capabilities to keep himself safe, but I do. If he says he will return, he will. Now, would you please stop shouting at me?”
Chagrin did not even touch the man’s face. He did not back down. “You do not understand. These men are the worst sort. If Lucas went after them... and alone? I need to find him. Do you have any idea where he’s gone?”
Fear sliced through her at his words, and suddenly, she was just as agitated as he. “No. Well, maybe.”
“I’ll take a maybe.”
“I do not know exactly where it is, though. I’ve been there once, but it was dark, and I—Charlie would know.”
